The Rise of The Forgotten Sons
by bhopplayztrumpet
Summary: This is the story of Brandon Syndicate. Brandon Syndicate isn't a person. He is me and I am him. We are one and the same. This is my story.
1. The Rise of Brandon Syndicate

My name is Brandon. My real name doesn't matter, but my ring name does. It's everything that defines me.

So to start things off, my name is Brandon Syndicate. I know what you might be saying…Who names themselves "Syndicate." It's such an odd name to give to anyone. But like I said before, my real name doesn't matter. I dropped my old name long ago for this one.

Some would call this name a "stage name," but in my line of work, it's called a ring name. That's because my line of work is professional wrestling.  
A lot of people will probably stop reading at this point because, let's face it, nobody cares about professional wrestling. Most people think that it's fake, and the people that don't think it's fake are completely oblivious to the fact it really is. Totally and completely fake.

Now, if you've stuck around that paragraph, then you've made a good choice. That is because you are about to enter a story unlike any you've heard before. A story of hurt and pain, of trials and tribulations, and of overcoming the "underdog" mentality.

This is my story. This is the story of Brandon Syndicate.

I was ranked 6th best collegiate wrestler in the United States by the time I entered my junior year of college. A little bit of back-story about me will come later, but for now we can focus on the reason I am where I am now.

Like I said, I was ranked 6th best in the country by the "Amateur Wrestling Weekly" newsletter delivered every week to my personal dorm room at Florida State University.

I wrestled with some of the best collegiate amateur wrestlers in the nation, and to me, that was exactly what they were. Amateurs. I had realized long ago that I was the best, but I couldn't be acknowledged by the standards of wrestling technicians because I didn't use technique in the ring.

Throughout all of college, I was able to use brute force to win my matches. I could make someone pass out in a matter of minutes and I could knock someone out in a matter of seconds…If I wanted to. But I was a ferocious man who loved to inflict pain on my opponents. So I would toy with them. I would beat them until they were black and blue, unleash years of pent-up aggression on them, just to make myself feel better.

But beating amateurs got boring around the time of my sophomore year of college, so I started to tour around the United States with an independent wrestling called Ring of Honor. I wrestled with the best of the best. Then everything went downhill and I started to lose a lot of matches.

It was at that point that I realized that I wasn't as good as I was. I only thought I was because I was beating nobodies and amateurs back home in Florida.

Even though I started to lose, I didn't leave. I didn't run away. And eventually that paid off for me, because I learned a lot of new things. I learned that brute force almost never wins the match. I also learned the more technical match.

Because of this knowledge, I started to win matches. A lot of matches. Some of them against big names in the industry.

The biggest night of my life came when I was wrestling in Cleveland, Ohio.

Apparently, ROH had just signed a new talent to the roster, a man who was nicknamed "The Natural". And I was set to be his opponent in his debut match, but I wasn't allowed to see him before the match.

When the time came for me to face "The Natural," I was actually a little worried. Who was this guy? What did he do? Is he that good that people actually nicknamed him "The Natural"?

Then I heard the music.

"_It couldn't be?_" I thought to myself.

The song that came over the loudspeakers was my best friend Frank, his favorite song. Then I saw him. My best friend came through the curtain.

I couldn't believe my eyes. I was wrestling my best friend. Now I knew why people called him "The Natural." According to the AWW, Frank Holly was the Number 1 ranked collegiate wrestler in both America and the World.

**Thanks Guys for Reading. I will upload another part tomorrow so be on the lookout. **


	2. Best Friends or Bitter Rivals

My best friend, "The Natural" Frank Holly, was approaching the ring, the same one I occupied at the same moment.

Me and Frank met a number of years back when I was wrestling his high school in the national finals. To make a long story short, I got my ass kicked.

It was a surreal moment for us to both be in the same ring for the first time in 8 years. I personally couldn't believe it.

As soon as Frank entered the ring, I went right up to him and gave him a huge hug. He reciprocated with his own hug, then we shook hands.

The match started, and right off the fly, fists started flying. I was having fun and I could tell he was too.

About 5 minutes into our match, Frank went to finish the match with his finishing move, the Natural Forearm, but I was able to duck and smash my elbow into the back of his head, my signature move that I had dubbed the Lock and Key.

The funny thing about my move was that I hadn't even named it. Frank, the man I was wrestling at this very moment, had named it, and I had kept the name.

As soon as I hit Frank with the elbow, I turned him around and dropped him with a spinebuster that I personally had dubbed the BS Spinebuster.

3 seconds later and I had the match won. I had beat the man who had kicked my ass eight years back. It had bothered me for a while, but I finally got my comeuppance.

I decided to help Frank my best friend to his feet, but he shrugged me off.

I watched as Frank walked to the back as I tried to concentrate on why he had just shrugged off my gesture of friendship.

Once the show had ended, I walked backstage to find Frank standing in the corner.

As soon as I saw him, I immediately walked over to him.

"Hey bro. Long time, no see." I said.

"Brandon. How are you?" He said with an uncomfortable smirk on his face. Uncomfortable for me, because I wasn't sure why he had it.

I heard some shuffling behind us, and as I turned to look at the cause, Frank jumped me from behind.

All I could feel was pain as Frank's fists hit my face over and over. I felt people trying to pull him off, but the pain was too much to bear. The last thing I saw before my vision went black was a cameraman pointing at me. Then, everything was dark.


End file.
